


We're exactly where we're supposed to be

by ronnlynch (ohlmes)



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-08 03:21:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5481461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohlmes/pseuds/ronnlynch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre spends Christmas as Courfeyrac's boyfriend for the first time.</p><p>Grantaire's flight gets cancelled and he has nowhere to go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Christmas Eve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theglitterati](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theglitterati/gifts).



> This is heavily based on [this post](http://bravenry.tumblr.com/post/133627477715/im-always-a-slut-for-a-christmas-au-i-know-we), and the title is from Ho Ho Hopefully by The Maine.
> 
> Written for a fic exchange with [Kyrstin](http://kyrstin.tumblr.com/), the Enjolras to my Combeferre, and the best beta I could ever ask for.
> 
> Merry Christmas!

Courfeyrac looks out of the window of the taxi and takes in the snowy street, the houses lit up with fairy lights, and the sun setting between buildings. Christmas is, hands down, Courfeyrac's favorite holiday, and it has always been. He has a big family who celebrates it with a big reunion, including lots of food and drinks, and lots of presents. It's never perfect, of course - everyone has that one relative who asks the wrong questions and makes disrespectful remarks. Still, it's always worth it.

But with Combeferre at his side in the backseat, this year, he is apprehensive. It's the first Christmas Courfeyrac is going to spend with Combeferre as his boyfriend. Obviously, Combeferre has been to his family parties more times than they can count, because they have been best friends since pre-school, but this is different. He knows Combeferre will charm everyone, as usual, but he’s afraid his overbearing family might scare him off. Combeferre rests a hand on the thigh Courfeyrac has been wiggling anxiously, anchoring him.

When they get there, Combeferre stops in the middle of their walk to Courfeyrac’s grandmother’s door. He pulls Courfeyrac by the hand he had been holding and wraps him in his arms, making Courfeyrac sigh happily with the body heat. He returns the embrace with one arm, because the other is occupied with a bag full of presents. He rests his head against Combeferre’s chest, revelling in the softness of his sweater and the strong, reassuring beat of his heart.

“Courf, we’ve discussed this. It’s gonna be fine,” Combeferre says against Courfeyrac’s curls.

“I know,” Courfeyrac murmurs.

“I love you and I love your family. We’re gonna have a wonderful evening.”

Courfeyrac looks up, smiling. “I know. I love you, too.”

“Good,” Combeferre whispers before kissing him softly.

They ring the doorbell and Courfeyrac’s middle sister, Chloé, screams in delight before hugging both of them.

“Theo, I’ve missed you so much!” she says as she messes Courfeyrac’s hair, and he endures the use of his first name and his carefully styled curls being ruined because resistance is useless. Then she turns to Combeferre. “I’m so glad you’re finally together!”

Combeferre’s shoulders shake with laughter. “Me too,” he says simply.

Courfeyrac’s siblings, parents and grandparents and many of his cousins, aunts and uncles are already there, and everyone greets them warmly. He is glad that, so far, everything is good.

Soon they have glasses of wine in their hands and they’re sitting close to Aimée, his older sister, to listen to her pregnancy stories and feel her swelling stomach.

“It’s a pity you can’t have kids now, Theo,” his uncle comments, and Courfeyrac almost spills wine down his shirt.

“Well, I’ll never _ever_ get pregnant, but that is not new information,” he smiles ironically.

“Surely you know what I mean!” he waves his hand dismissively.

“Yeah, I sure do,” Courfeyrac grumbles. He doesn’t say anything else because Combeferre grips at his shoulder to calm him down.

Aimée starts telling another story and the peace is restored.

Twenty minutes later, Enjolras comes in.

“Enj, I’m so glad you showed up!” Courfeyrac hugs him tight.

He knows his friend doesn’t care much for the holiday, because his family doesn’t celebrate it, but it’s good that Enjolras is there with him and Combeferre. Courfeyrac always feels more like himself when they’re both around.

“Thanks for inviting me, Courf,” Enjolras hugs him back.

“Well, it is a night to spend with family,” Courfeyrac cupping the back of Enjolras’s neck affectionately.

Enjolras says hello to everyone in the room, and, obviously, they fawn over him.

“Theo, if I hadn’t known you’d been friends with those boys since childhood, I’d ask if you befriend people at modeling agencies,” his already tipsy aunt Marion remarks.

“Enjolras, are you sure you’re gay?” his cousin Odette asks, curling a her hair around her finger.

Enjolras breathes deeply and slowly, answering “Yeah, pretty sure,” his voice and face carefully devoid of expression.

“Ah, that’s such a waste!” Marion laments.

“Okay, that’s enough. Time to stop making Enjolras uncomfortable, okay?” Courfeyrac intervenes, seeing his friend turn green. When they move off the couch, Courf grimaces and says “Sorry, Enj.”

Enjolras huffs in amusement. “Don’t worry, my own family has hardened me enough.”

Courfeyrac thinks of something to lighten the mood. “Hey, you know what we need?”

Combeferre and Enjolras shake their heads in a creepy twin-like synchrony.

“Music! Let’s sing some carols. It will be fun.”

Enjolras groans, Combeferre shrugs smiling slightly.

“Come on, Enj. You’re good at it,” Courfeyrac nudges at him.

“But I hate singing,” Enjolras pouts.

“You know that’s not true,” Combeferre argues. They have been roommates for a long time, so Combeferre knows how much Enjolras sings in the shower.

Enjolras sighs. “Okay.”

“Yes!” Courfeyrac claps. “Quick warm up.” He starts humming and they accompany him, albeit with some eye-rolling from Enjolras’ part. “All right, let’s start with O Holy Night. Ferre, you sing and we follow.” Combeferre nods. “One, two, three, four!”

“Wait,” Combeferre holds his hand up. “Am I doing Mariah or Dan Smith?”

“Gosh, neither. You’re doing a beautiful angel with a powerful voice, which means yourself.”

“Okay,” Combeferre nods, gathering concentration.

“One, two, three, four.”

Combeferre closes his eyes and starts singing. “ _O Holy Night_ ” His voice is deep and rich and it makes Courfeyrac’s chest swell every single time. He remembers all their impromptu duets fondly. Combeferre opens his eyes before going to the second verse, and it forces out a smile from Courfeyrac.

Courfeyrac sings the fourth verse with him. “ _Long lay the world in sin and e'er pining_ ” then he stops, lets him sing the next alone, then points at Enjolras.

“ _A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn_ ,” Enjolras sings in tune. His voice is higher than Combeferre’s, and they harmonize beautifully.

“ _Fall on your knees, o hear the angels voices_ ,” the three of them sing together. Courfeyrac notices that everyone else has fallen silent to listen to them. “ _O night divine, o night when Christ was born_.” Courfeyrac closes his hand in a gesture to finish. They smile to each other.

“That was beautiful!” Courfeyrac’s mother cries. His family applauds them and Combeferre adjusts his glasses, shyly, while Enjolras buries his reddened face in Courfeyrac’s shoulder.

Enjolras’s phone chimes in his pocket, then Combeferre’s, then Courfeyrac’s, which means they got a group text.

Unnecessarily, all of them grab their phones to read it.

 **Grantaire:** hey guys, merry christmas! anyone in town? my flight was cancelled and now i’m On My Own.mp3

“Maman, I’m inviting another friend over,” Courfeyrac says to his mom, who is just passing by them, as he types.

“Courf!” Enjolras protests.

“Okay, there’s plenty of food for everyone,” she answers.

 **Courfeyrac:** i’m @ my grandma’s place, come over!

“What?” he asks innocently. He sends the address and puts the phone back in his pocket.

“What about Christmas being about family?” Enjolras raises an eyebrow.

“Enj, spare me your drama. No one deserves to spend Christmas alone and Grantaire is a great friend, so he’s coming,” Courfeyrac says with finality. “Besides, he can beatbox,” he adds to strengthen his point.

Enjolras, looking wronged, turns to Combeferre.

“You should seize the opportunity to make peace,” Combeferre says reasonably.

“Stop ganging up on me.” Enjolras says, crossing his arms in self-defense.

“Never,” Courfeyrac smiles, encircling Combeferre’s waist with his arm.

Their phones chime again.

 **Grantaire:** are you sure it’s ok to crash your nana’s party? because i can be there in five minutes

 **Courfeyrac:** you should already be here!!!

“I’m gonna go get something to drink,” Enjolras mutters, resigned.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rings.

“Who is it?” Grandma looks around the room. “Everyone is already here.”

“I think it’s my friend. I’ll get it,” Courfeyrac announces.

“If it’s carolers, invite them in to join you!” aunt Édith shouts to his back.

Courfeyrac opens the door. It is indeed Grantaire, clean-shaven for a change, wearing many layers of clothes, carrying an unopened bottle of fancy wine, and smiling warmly at him.

“R!” Courfeyrac pulls him in for a hug.

Grantaire pats him on the back. “Hey man, thanks for inviting me. I thought I was going to watch sad old Doctor Who specials by myself again.”

“Absolutely not. We are going to fill ourselves with food and drinks and we’re gonna sing carols until our voices are hoarse.”

“Sounds good,” Grantaire laughs. “Oh, I brought this because I didn’t want to arrive empty-handed.” He hands him a bottle.

“You didn’t have to, but thanks. Come on, you have plenty of people to meet.”

The truth is that Grantaire can be very charismatic if puts in the effort. He greets everyone warmly and tries to learn their names. He’s smiling as they talk to Guillaume, Courfeyrac’s youngest cousin, when Enjolras comes back in from the kitchen. Grantaire’s expression falls and then another kind of smile, a sad one, appears. “You didn’t tell me he was here,” Grantaire mutters.

“Surprise?” Courfeyrac exclaims in forceful cheer, but it comes out as a question.

Seeing he’s no longer the center of attention, Guillaume shrugs and walks away.

Enjolras comes in their direction, carrying a mug filled with way too many marshmallows.

“Hey,” Grantaire says awkwardly.

“Hi,” Enjolras answers tonelessly before sipping from his cup and wincing.

“Courf, could you come here?” Combeferre calls from the other side of the living room, where he’s talking to Grandpa Louis.

Thanking God for his boyfriend’s good timing, he excuses himself from the embarrassing moment he’s witnessing.

Approaches his grandfather and Combeferre, Courfeyrac asks “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing, we were just talking. I just thought they needed to be alone.”

“Ferre, you devious bastard,” Courfeyrac looks at his boyfriend adoringly and puts his arm around his waist. Combeferre winks at him and Courfeyrac wonders if he will ever stop feeling this rush to tear his nerdy clothes off whenever he does something charming.

“Boys?” Grandpa Louis intervenes.

Courfeyrac clears his throat, forcing indecent thoughts out of his head.

“Don’t mind me, please go on,” Courfeyrac lets go of Combeferre, settling for a more innocent touch as he holds onto his arm. “I need to stay here for a while so they can talk.”

They resume their conversation and Courfeyrac half-listens to what they say about a clock mechanism or something.

Soon they are called to dinner, which is usually held early because of the elders and the children in the family. Courfeyrac and Combeferre help Grandpa Louis stand up and walk to the table. Because there are too many people to gather around it, a few have to serve themselves and sit around the living room to eat.

Courfeyrac calls his boyfriend and friends to join him in the sofa. It isn’t big enough for all of them, so Courfeyrac has to basically sit in Combeferre’s lap, and still Enjolras and Grantaire get squashed together. It’s perfect, in Courfeyrac’s opinion. They clean their plates while Grantaire tells them his unfortunate but predictable misadventure at the airport.

“I know I’ll get repaid for the flight, I’m just mad that I won’t see my sister for another Christmas...” Grantaire stares down at his plate, frowning. Then he looks back up, smiling faintly. “But I’m glad to be here. Thank you, Courf.”

“You’re welcome. In fact, I’m very happy you’re all here with me. My mother must be mad that I’m not trying to socialize more with my relatives, but I don’t really care,” he shows them a pleased smile.

Combeferre laughs beside (under) him, making their bodies shake slightly. “I love you,” he whispers to Courfeyrac’s cheek and kisses it.

Courfeyrac tries to adjust his position to face him properly without knocking the plates on their laps to the floor. The angle is weird, but he manages to give him a chaste, quick kiss. “Me too.”

“Oh my God, guys, honestly?” Enjolras complains, but Courfeyrac can tell by his voice that he wants to laugh.

“Don’t be jealous, Enj!” Combeferre jokes.

Enjolras huffs. “I’m not jealous. You two are gross.”

“You really are,” Grantaire nods.

“See? Even Grantaire agrees with me.”

“No! Love is like oxygen. Love is a many-splendored thing. Love... lifts us up where we belong! All you need is love!” Courfeyrac bats his eyelashes.

“Please don’t start that again” Enjolras warns him, probably unaware he’s handing his head on a plate to Courfeyrac.

“ _All you need is love_ ,” Courfeyrac sings, reaching to touch Enjolras’s face, and the plate in his lap falls with a cracking noise. “Shit.”

Grantaire bursts into laughter.

Combeferre, Enjolras and Grantaire get up to take their plates to the kitchen, while Courfeyrac runs to get a broom and a dustpan to clean the mess he made. When he gets to the kitchen, Combeferre is turned to the sink and talking to Aimée, who is leaning on the counter.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Courfeyrac asks, seeing his boyfriend wash a huge pile of dishes.

“I told him he didn’t need to do it, but he insisted,” she lifts up her hands in self-defense. “Marry him as soon as you can.”

“Aimée!” Courfeyrac flusters.

“What?” she fakes innocence.

“It’s a bit soon for that, thank you,” he shoots her a pleading look.

“Soon?” she laughs roaringly, shooting her head back. “You told me you wanted to marry him when you were nine!”

“Oh my God, shut up!” she shoves at her lightly.

“Hey, don’t treat the pregnant lady like that!” she cries out.

“Is that true?” Combeferre asks, wide-eyed.

“Oh, yes,” she nods solemnly.

“Aimée, don’t,” Courfeyrac begs.

“Okay, okay...” she concedes. “I’ll leave. I’ll ask maman if we can exchange presents already. My feet are killing me.” With that, she leaves the kitchen.

Before Combeferre can say anything, Courfeyrac asks “Where are Enjolras and Grantaire?”

Drying his hands, Combeferre shrugs. “I think Grantaire asked him to show him where the bathroom is. It’s been a while.”

Courfeyrac gasps. “Do you think they finally…?”

“EVERYONE, TIME FOR PRESENTS!” Grandma’s voice calls.

“Come on,” Courfeyrac grabs his boyfriend’s hand and drags him to the living room. He is relieved to see Grantaire and Enjolras talking calmly in the corner. “Hey, you two.”

The four of them stand and watch as Grandpa Louis gives a speech, much like the last twenty, about the importance of family and the true meaning of Christmas. As usual, Courfeyrac is emotional by the end of it and he holds on tight to Combeferre’s hand.

Then everyone gets on with sharing presents and distributing hugs. Courfeyrac gets many gifts, but he only bought them for his parents and Combeferre, because he’s still a broke student, after all.

“Thank you!” Combeferre smiles and kisses Courfeyrac’s cheek after he gets his carefully-packed package. “I didn’t bring yours, though, I’m sorry. I didn’t know we were doing this here.”

“It’s okay,” Courfeyrac assures him.

“...Should I open this here, then? Or should I wait for us to get home and open at the same time?”

Courfeyrac’s heart flutters at the mention of their _home_. They have been living together for almost a year, since long before they started dating. (Though sharing the apartment was probably the reason they realized they had been in love all along.) The thought of going home and spending the rest of Christmas Eve with Combeferre seems so perfect he almost wishes to leave the party at once.

“Hmmm, yeah. Let’s do it together.”

After that, the house empties a little as people start to leave to go to their own homes. Courfeyrac stays behind mostly for his friends’ benefit. They sit with Chloé close to the fireplace, drink hot chocolate and mulled wine, and talk for a while. Courfeyrac feels warm, tipsy, and content as he snuggles against Combeferre and listens to the fire, to the point that he’s almost falling asleep.

“Guys,” he says lazily. “If we don’t do something right now, I’m gonna take a nap.”

“Like what?” Enjolras asks.

“Maybe you should go carolling,” Chloé suggests.

“Actual carolling? Improvised?” Courfeyrac raises an eyebrow.

“Well, you sounded good enough before.” She takes a sip of her drink.

“Who sounded good when?” Grantaire frowns.

“They were singing together before you came.”

“No way!” He sounds truly disbelieving.

“Now I’m a little drunk, though.” Combeferre argues.

“I don’t care, I’m gonna have to see it to believe it.” Grantaire crosses his arms in challenge.

“Is this a dare?” Enjolras raises his eyebrows.

“You bet.”

“Okay, we’re doing this,” Courfeyrac decides. “Ferre, Enj, you know Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas?”

“Sure.” Combeferre answers confidently.

“I can look for the lyrics on my phone.” Enjolras says, already grabbing the device, unwilling to let the challenge go.

“Good idea.” Courfeyrac does the same. He reads the lyrics over quickly. “Enjolras sings the first part, then Ferre, then I’ll do it. We all sing the last one. Good?”

When he looks up, Chloé already has her phone up, ready to record them. He smiles at her.

“Okay, one, two, three, four!”

“ _Have yourself a merry little Christmas_.” Enjolras looks down at the phone as he starts singing. Courfeyrac glances at Grantaire and smiles at the dumbfounded look on his face. It’s probably the light, but he has to admit Enjolras looks positively angelic right now. “ _Let your heart be light_.” Enjolras lifts his eyes and blushes faintly, noticing Grantaire’s gaze on him. “ _From now on, our troubles will be out of sight_.”

“ _Have yourself a merry little Christmas_ ,” Combeferre continues, grabbing Courfeyrac’s hand. “ _Make the Yule-tide gay_.” Coufeyrac wiggles his eyebrows at him when he says the last word, and he can hear Chloé snort. “ _From now on, our troubles will be miles away_.” Combeferre smiles as he finishes.

“ _Here we are as in olden days_ ,” Courfeyrac sings. He smiles as he continues, “ _Happy golden days of yore_.” He offers his free hand to Enjolras, who takes it immediately. “ _Faithful friends who are dear to us gather near to us once more_.” He squeezes their hands.

“ _Through the years we all will be together, if the fates allow_ ,” the three sing as one, each on his own note. “ _Hang a shining star upon the highest bough_.” Courfeyrac looks at and sees tears in Chloé’s eyes. His own fill up quickly, but he makes an effort not to cry. “ _So have yourself a merry little Christmas_.” Grantaire hides part of his face under his hand, but Courfeyrac can tell he is as emotional as everyone now. “ _Have yourself a merry little Christmas_.” Combeferre brings their laced hands close to his heart and Courfeyrac’s voice almost breaks down. “ _So have yourself a merry little Christmas, now_.” Courfeyrac kisses Combeferre’s hand and squeezes Enjolras’s one last time before letting them go.

Grantaire applauds them, followed by Chloé, when she finishes recording. Courfeyrac wipes the stubborn tear that rolled down his cheek and joins the applause.

“All right, I’m sorry I doubted you. That was...” Grantaire looks at Enjolras. “Stunning.”

“It’s okay. Now, will you beatbox for us? Chloé, you should come too. We’ll be like Pentatonix!” Courfeyrac is very excited with the idea.

They quickly improvise a medley of Deck The Halls and Lady GaGa’s Christmas Tree, and then rehearse again. It’s good enough, considering the fact that most of them (which means everyone but Enjolras) are a bit drunk and that, well, they are not an actual choir.

They wrap up in coats, scarves and hats and hit the street. They walk down the street, ringing doorbells, and they get to sing their little piece for three different families. They even get cookies from the second one, which is nice, though they get lectured by the third, the mom saying that their song was inappropriate, which is… fair, honestly. After that, they are too cold to continue, so they come back home.

By then, Courfeyrac’s parents are about to leave, everyone else is already gone, and it’s too late for Courfeyrac’s grandparents to be awake, so they decide to wrap it up.

“Do you want to go back to ours?” Combeferre asks Enjolras and Grantaire politely, while he calls the taxi.

“I...” Enjolras looks at Grantaire briefly. “I don’t think so. I’ll just head home.”

“Me too,” Grantaire quickly adds.

Courfeyrac squints at them. “Okay.”

“Do you want to share a cab, Grantaire? I mean, since you live so close?” Enjolras asks with hands in his pockets.

“...Sure.” Grantaire shrugs in a way he thinks is casual, but isn’t.

Their cars arrive shortly. Enjolras hugs Courfeyrac and Combeferre and gives them a bright smile. “Thank you for tonight. That was a very good celebration.”

“I had a lot of fun, too. Thanks for saving my Christmas,” Grantaire says solemnly, crushing Courfeyrac in his arms and then embracing Combeferre fondly.

“It was a pleasure. Merry Christmas, guys.” Courfeyrac waves at them and they get into the car.

As soon as they enter in their own taxi, Courfeyrac turns to Combeferre and grabs him by the shoulders. “I MADE A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE HAPPEN!” He is too excited to lower voice.

“It seems like you did,” Combeferre agrees.

“Did you see how chill they were with each other? They probably talked things through when we weren’t around.”

“Thank God!”

“Wanna bet that they’re gonna bang today?”

Combeferre frowns. “I’d rather not bet about our friends’ sex lives.”

Courfeyrac lifts one eyebrow at him.

“Okay. I bet twenty bucks they are _not_ gonna bang today.”

“You should have a little more faith, Ferre.” Courfeyrac shakes his head.

“We’ll see.”

“Okay. Enough of them now.”

Courfeyrac uses lapels of his shirt to bring him close for a kiss.


	2. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know, I want to open presents but I really need you inside me as soon as possible. I’ve never been so confused in my entire life.”

Courfeyrac waits eagerly for Combeferre to see the surprise as they walk out of the elevator and head for their apartment’s door. Courfeyrac steps into the apartment first, waits for Combeferre to get in and, as he closes the door, points up. “Wait, look!”

Combeferre’s face goes from a little curious frown to a beautiful, full-blown grin when he sees the mistletoe hanging over the doorframe. “When did that even happen? I was with you the whole time!”

Courfeyrac casually leans on the door, dropping the package in his hand carefully, and putting his hands in his pockets for good measure. “Oh, Ferre. You beautiful, naïve, sophisticated newborn baby,” he smirks to his boyfriend.

“Okay,” Combeferre raises his hands in defeat. “I’m not even asking.” He steps toward Courfeyrac, enclosing him against the door with his arms.

Courfeyrac holds him by the waist, pressing their bodies closer together, looking up at Combeferre. “So, are you gonna kiss me or not?”

“I will.” Combeferre licks his lips, drawing Courfeyrac’s attention to the them. Combeferre holds Courfeyrac’s face in his hands and moves closer, leaving inches between their lips. Then he distances himself again. Courfeyrac whines.

Taking pity on him, Combeferre kisses him at last, in a slow and sinful way that makes Courfeyrac weak at the knees. When they part, Courfeyrac sighs in content.

“I’m a genius,” Courfeyrac beams.

“Did you really think you needed to hang a mistletoe to make me kiss you?” Combeferre asks him seriously.

“Nah, I just wanted to set the holiday mood.”

“Well, that’s good, because this...” Combeferre stands on his tiptoes to remove the mistletoe of the wall. He drops it to the floor. “... is not necessary at all.” Combeferre kisses Courfeyrac again, and somehow it’s even more all-encompassing and overwhelming than before.

“Fuck,” Courfeyrac mutters against his boyfriend’s lips. “You know, I want to open presents but I really need you inside me as soon as possible. I’ve never been so confused in my entire life.”

Combeferre ponders. “Let’s open presents before, because I’d prefer if you didn’t have anything else on your mind while I fuck you.”

Courfeyrac gawks. “HOW do say that kind of stuff with a straight face?”

Combeferre shrugs nonchalantly. “You know, the more we talk, the longer it takes to get to the bedroom.”

“All right, that’s a very good point.” Courfeyrac lowers his body to pick up the package from the floor. “This is for you.”

Combeferre looks at him excitedly as he opens his present. He smiles pleasantly at the soft brown leather bag in his hands.

“Do you like it? You can carry all your stuff in it. You’re already very orderly, but I thought it would be nice if you could have your tablet, journal, pen, phone, keys, documents, credit card... everything neatly organized in one place.” Courfeyrac is well-aware that he is babbling right now, but he is too anxious to make sure Combeferre likes it to stop. “It’s handmade. It’s not actual leather, if you’re wondering. I took the model from this company in LA and asked someone to make it here with material that, you know, didn’t involve animal harm. I picked it because it’s stylish, unique, practical, and... hipster, just like you.”

Combeferre, who has been inspecting the bag carefully as Courfeyrac spoke, finally looks up. “Well, obviously you put a lot of thinking into it. It’s beautiful. I honestly love it. Thank you so much,” he smiles sweetly and kisses Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac smiles into it.

“Okay, now, where is my present?”

Combeferre offers his hand. “Follow me.” Courfeyrac laces their fingers and Combeferre guides them to their bedroom. “Could you please take a seat?” Courfeyrac obliges, looking at him expectantly. Combeferre opens one of his drawers and digs in. (It was probably a good idea to not leave it under the tree, because Courfeyrac would have tried to figure out what it was.) He gets a small box – not ring-sized, for the sake of Courfeyrac’s heart’s health – and hands it to Courfeyrac.

The box has a beautiful pattern and it’s covered by a perfect red bow. It feels very light in Courfeyrac’s hands. He unties the bow and opens it carefully. Inside, there is a collar. His chin drops. “Well, that’s kinky. I never thought...”

“It’s not for either of us, Courf,” Combeferre says in an amused tone.

Courfeyrac frowns, trying to understand. He takes the collar in his hand, examining it. It’s thin, with a galaxy print, and a round medal meant for engraving.

Before he can come up with another theory, Combeferre explains.

“This is a proposition, actually. I know you’ve never had a pet as a child because of Chloé’s allergy, and then you couldn’t have one in your college housing, but now you can. I thought we could pay a visit to the animal shelter and you can pick a dog or a cat and we’ll love it and...” Combeferre’s voice is calm, but he adjusts his glasses and Courfeyrac can tell he’s nervous. “... raise it together. Of course, this is merely symbolic, but I’m going to buy all the necessary accessories.” He bites his lip. “Courfeyrac, are you going to say something?”

Courfeyrac has been looking at him wide-eyed and open mouthed since he started speaking, unable to believe him.

“This is the best present I’ve ever gotten.” He means it. He jumps out of bed and crushes Combeferre in a hug. “I love you so fucking much, Ferre.” He says “thank you” a thousand times in-between kisses.

Eventually they move to the bed. Courfeyrac kisses Combeferre with purpose, using his mouth and his hands to try to convey that Combeferre, himself, is the best gift he has ever gotten. Combeferre responds with equal intensity, touching Courfeyrac in the ways he knows will make him whimper and moan, feeling like he is the luckiest, most loved and desired person on Earth. They lose their shirts quickly. Courfeyrac can feel Combeferre hard against him, pushing their erections close through their pants, to the point that it’s almost unbearable.

“Wait, wait,” Courfeyrac pleads.

Combeferre stops and looks at him with attentively. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes! You’re still wearing khakis. I need you to be naked _right now_.”

Laughing, Combeferre takes his pants off. Courfeyrac can see the outline of his cock through his white boxers. His mouth waters at the sight.

“So hot,” Courfeyrac mutters, unbuttoning his own pants. He struggles to slide them down his thighs.

“I think you own the skinniest jeans ever made,” Combeferre quips as he helps to slide them down. Then he removes Courfeyrac’s underwear in a smooth motion, taking Courfeyrac’s cock in hand immediately.

Courfeyrac closes his eyes at the sensation. “I fucking love your hands, but I’ve been wanting you to fuck me the whole night and if you make me come before that happens I’m gonna be so mad.” Still, he mourns the loss when Combeferre stops touching him to get lube and a condom.

“Can you prep me?” Courfeyrac asks, lying on his belly.

“You don’t even need to ask.”

Combeferre lies half on top of Courfeyrac and kisses his shoulder, his hair, his face, while he opens him up slick fingers. By the time he has three fingers inside him, Courfeyrac is panting, biting his own arm, rutting against the blankets.

“Are you good?” Combeferre asks against Courfeyrac’s skin.

“Yes,” Courfeyrac moans desperately. Combeferre removes his fingers and sits back, so Courfeyrac turns to him. He can see Combeferre has moved his boxers just under his cock and he’s touching himself lightly. Courfeyrac watches, biting his lip and sliding his hand down his torso to his own neglected erection.

Combeferre shivers, his nipples hardening. Courfeyrac is half-aware it’s cold enough that they should be under the covers, but he doesn’t want to miss the chance to stare.

“Lie on your back,” Courfeyrac instructs. Combeferre takes his boxers off and does so, lying with his hands under his head and legs spread open.

“You’re such a show-off,” Courfeyrac jokes. “People see you on the street with your grandpa sweaters and they must think you’re so bashful.” He shakes his head. He finds the condom on the bed and rips the package open. “Only I know what you’re capable of behind closed doors.” Courfeyrac puts the condom at the tip of Combeferre’s cock and rolls it down with his mouth.

Combeferre grunts. “I’m the show-off?”

“I guess we’re a pretty good match.” Courfeyrac slicks Combeferre up with lube and straddles him. Combeferre sits so they can kiss. They adjust so Combeferre is sitting more comfortably and Courfeyrac holds on to his shoulders as he slides down his cock, then all the joking atmosphere is suddenly gone. Combeferre looks so enticing now, completely lost in sensation, that Courfeyrac can’t stay still for long, rolling his hips to fuck himself on Combeferre’s cock.

Combeferre responds quickly, moving with him in piercing thrusts. Courfeyrac grinds down as Combeferre pounds into him and he relishes in how they fit, how they sound together, how perfect it is to have Combeferre all over him. He loves how, like this, Combeferre is free of his controlled demeanor. Everything about him now is this hunger, this need for more, this desperation to make it harder, faster, slicker, to the point of losing himself in it.

Courfeyrac wants to scream, and he could, but instead he bites down Combeferre’s shoulder and quivers with him for the feeling of his own cock pressed up between their bodies, and the delicious stretch of Combeferre inside him, pressing against his prostate every time he moves. Combeferre hisses at the bite and grabs Courfeyrac’s ass hard enough to leave marks.

With a little push, Courfeyrac makes Combeferre lie down on his back again. “Open your eyes,” Courfeyrac utters throatily, and Combeferre struggles to look up as Courfeyrac holds him down by the shoulders and rides him erratically. Pushing his feet to the mattress for leverage, Combeferre shoves into Courfeyrac and soon enough they are gasping for air. Courfeyrac bends forward and kisses him open-mouthed and messily until he finds his release. Combeferre, feeling him clench around him and twitching on top of him, thrusts a few more times before his orgasm.

It takes some time before they can even move. Eventually, Combeferre pulls out, and Courfeyrac only manages to lie down and wait unmoving until Combeferre disposes of the condom and cleans them up.

Finally, then, Combeferre pulls the covers on top of them and shifts close to Courfeyrac, holding him from behind. He feels so good in Combeferre’s embrace that he doesn’t want to ever move again.

“We should take a shower, you know,” Combeferre suggests weakly.

“No way,” Courfeyrac groans. “I’m completely worn out.”

“Okay, then. Maybe in a few hours.”

“Sounds good.”

When Courfeyrac is almost asleep, Combeferre says his name again. Courfeyrac hums questioningly.

“I was thinking about what Aimée said in the kitchen.” Courfeyrac freezes in his arms. “If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to. I’ll never ask again.” Courfeyrac sighs. Reluctantly, Courfeyrac turns to look at him.

“You can ask me.”

“Is it true? Did you say that?”

Courfeyrac bites his lip and nods. “I didn’t remember until she said it. She told me this story right after I told her we were dating. She said one day she was babysitting me and we were watching Beauty and The Beast. When the movie ended, I said ‘That’s a good story, but I don’t get this marrying beasts and princes thing…’” Courfeyrac pauses, gathers his breath and some courage to continue. “I said, ‘I’m gonna marry Combeferre, and he’s not a prince. He’s only a boy, just like me.’” The end of the story comes out a whisper, and Courfeyrac can feel his own face burning.

Combeferre blinks at him a few times, lost in thoughts.

“You’re the one who asked. We’ve only been together for a few months, maybe this is not the time to discuss stuff like that. I didn’t want her to tell you because I didn’t want to scare you.”

That makes Combeferre snap out of it. He holds Courfeyrac’s face in his hands and says, “I’m not scared. Sure, it’s too soon for us to think about it. But I’m not scared. I know you, and I know I love you. You’re my best friend. Thinking of spending my life with you doesn’t sound scary at all.”

“Aren’t you scared that I’ve loved you my whole life?” Courfeyrac’s voice is almost inaudible, even to himself.

“Knowing that only makes me wish I had been aware of my own feelings sooner.” Combeferre whispers back.

Courfeyrac sighs. “The only thing that matters is that we’re together now.”

“You’re right.” Combeferre holds Courfeyrac’s face in his hands.

They kiss each other softly.

“Ferre,” he says when they’re about to sleep again. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, _mon coeur_.”


	3. Christmas Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Food porn? Food and porn? Porn with food? I don't know.  
> (Enjolras and Grantaire work on their issues.)

Enjolras wakes up to distant noises. His eyes adjust to the harsh light on his face and he looks around, registering that he’s not at home. It all comes back to him in a second: he’s on Grantaire’s couch. They’d spent Christmas Eve with Courfeyrac’s family and, when they left, Grantaire invited him to his apartment. They watched a movie together, then Grantaire excused himself and let Enjolras crash on the couch.

He shifts on the pillows and recollects his memories from last night.

_ Grantaire looked at him like he wanted to run away, as Enjolras walked to where he stood with Courfeyrac at the party, because things had been incredibly weird between them since the last fight - the biggest fight they ever had - in an  _ ABC _ meeting. Courfeyrac left them alone and Grantaire shifted uncomfortably, before starting the most awkward conversation they’d ever share. _

_ “I didn't know you’d be here,” Grantaire remarked. _

_ “Are you disappointed?” Enjolras raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to start shit again. _

_ “No! No, not at all.” _

Good _ , Enjolras thought. He was tired of fighting. Still, he didn’t know any other way to interact with Grantaire. _

_ “Okay.” _

_ “I came because my flight got cancelled,” Grantaire clarified unnecessarily. _

_ “Yeah, I got the text.” _

_ “Oh, sure.” Grantaire nodded. He looked at the mug in Enjolras’s hand. “That is a lot of marshmallows,” he stated. _

_ “What’s wrong with marshmallows?” Enjolras brought the cup closer to him, defensively. _

_ “Nothing, as long as you don’t have taste buds. Though I think now you really can’t taste much anymore, since you just burnt your tongue.” _

_ Enjolras gaped at him. He had no idea Grantaire had noticed that. “How…? Nevermind. I’m not surprised you hate marshmallows, you disagree with me about everything.” _

_ “I don’t.” He seemed sincere. _

_ “No?” _

_ “Well, mostly everything,” he conceded. “But I know you value your…  _ our _ friends a lot, hence your presence here today. I definitely can relate.” Despite Grantaire’s tendency to be sarcastic, sometimes he would say stuff like that and mean it, fiercely so. It always made Enjolras a little astounded.  _

_ They didn’t speak for a few beats. Then Enjolras found the words he had been keeping to himself for too long. “Listen… I know I can be an asshole sometimes and I’m not proud of it.” He was, however, proud of how his voice didn’t falter. “I’m sorry,” he said with difficulty, looking down at his hot chocolate. Then he stared back at Grantaire, hard in the eye. “Can we try to not fight tonight? For the sake of Christmas and...  _ our _ friends?” _

_ Grantaire smiled at him. A small, earnest smile, very different from his usual ironic sneers or his foul-mouthed smirks. “I’d like that.” _

Albeit awkward at first, that conversation had been the start of a pleasant night. Enjolras found out that Grantaire actually could be very good company, which shouldn’t have been a surprise, since every single friend Enjolras seemed to think so. They spoke about their families, argued lightly about the capitalist quality of the holiday, and even joked around. Hanging out was made even easier when Combeferre and Courfeyrac joined them, because Enjolras could focus on how disgustingly cute his friends were together instead of worrying if Grantaire was enjoying his company.

And then there was the look Grantaire had given him when they sang. A look of unmistakable admiration he had seen on Grantaire’s eyes before, but now unrestrained, uncovered by a veil of cynicism. That look alone was the reason Enjolras decided he didn’t want to say goodbye to Grantaire when they left Courfeyrac’s party.

Enjolras had felt quite brave yesterday, when he agreed to watch  _ Love Actually _ with Grantaire, sitting together on his couch, their thighs and shoulders brushing the whole time. They enjoyed the movie together, laughing at the funny parts and pointing out the problematic ones. Enjolras howled in laughter when Grantaire muted the movie to sing  _ Christmas Is All Around  _ in the most purposefully ridiculous way possible. He had no other choice but sing along.

Enjolras didn’t overlook all the moments when the mood had been charged with romance, but he wasn’t  _ that _ brave, after all. No one made the first move. As soon as the movie ended, Grantaire said he was tired and offered blankets and pillows, as well as pyjama pants, so Enjolras could settle on the couch. And so the night ended.

Deciding there’s no point in sitting on the couch and thinking eternally, Enjolras gets up, stretches and folds the blankets. He listens attentively to the noises in the apartment; it seems like they’re coming from the kitchen. Before going there, Enjolras goes to the bathroom to wash his face, try to tame his bed head a little and use some mouthwash. Only then he goes to find Grantaire.

“Hey, good morning!” Grantaire grins at Enjolras when he walks into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Enjolras replies, eyeing Grantaire’s KISS THE COOK apron, which Enjolras vaguely remembers as being a gift from Jehan last year.

“Oh,” Grantaire looks down at it when he notices Enjolras looking and flusters. “I swear it’s the only one I own.” Grantaire takes off the apron. “How do you feel about double chocolate cookies?” 

“I love them,” Enjolras says truthfully.

“Good, because they’re already in the oven. Did you sleep well?” Grantaire leans on the counter.

“Yeah, thanks. Your couch is very comfortable.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Do you need help with those dishes, while the cookies get ready?”

Grantaire looks taken aback by that.

“Sorry, should I not have offered?”

Grantaire laughs.

“No, it’s not that.” He shakes his head, still smiling. “It just hit me that you’re standing in my kitchen on Christmas morning, wearing my clothes… It’s too much to process.”

Enjolras frowns. “Why?”

“Because until yesterday, I thought you hated me.” Grantaire says simply. “Do you?” He narrows his eyes.

Enjolras scoffs. “No, Grantaire, of course not. I never hated you.”

Grantaire’s eyebrows say he doesn’t believe it at all.

“I just… couldn’t understand you and it frustrated me. I’m still trying to figure you out, honestly.”

“What is there to understand? I’m not a mysterious person, Enjolras.”

“I thought, and I still think, that it’s strange that you come to the meetings when you don’t believe in the cause.”

“I really don’t believe rallies and protests can change the world, but I do believe in you. All of you.”

“So why do you antagonize me so much?”

“Well, I’m a grumpy bugger,” Grantaire shrugs.

Enjolras snorts. He doesn’t believe it for a second, but he’s not going to push it.

The timer rings. Grantaire takes one batch of cookies from the oven and adds another one.

“They need to cool down for five minutes,” Grantaire explains.

“So, do you want me to do the dishes or not?”

“Nah, I’ll deal with them, don’t worry about it.” Grantaire moves to the fridge. “Milk?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Grantaire grabs a carton of milk and two cups. He fills them and hands one to Enjolras. Enjolras drinks his milk and wanders through the kitchen while Grantaire does the dishes. The door of the fridge is covered in pictures and magnets from various parts of the world.

“Is that your sister?” Enjolras asks, pointing to a dark-haired young woman with big blue eyes.

Grantaire looks over his shoulder. “Yeah, that’s Aurelie.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“I know, it’s unfair that I should have a beautiful twin while I look like this.”

“She’s your twin?” Enjolras arches his brows. It’s not unusual for Grantaire to make a self-deprecating remark, but it really is impressive that they are twins. Even though they look quite similar, and both are very good-looking, Grantaire looks a few years older.

“Yep.”

Enjolras is intrigued because he didn’t know that. He wonders how many things he doesn’t know about Grantaire, and he suddenly wants to know it all.

“I think we can eat them now,” Grantaire announces as he dries his hands. Enjolras approaches to get one.

Enjolras gives the cookie a bite. It’s perfectly warm, chewy yet soft, the dark chocolate rich-flavoured, and it melts on his mouth. “This is the best cookie I’ve ever eaten,” Enjolras says, awed.

Grantaire grins with his mouth closed before he swallows.

Enjolras keeps eating, enjoying every single bite.

“I’d ask for the recipe, if I wasn’t incapable of baking.”

“I can’t believe you’re incapable of anything.”

“Trust me, I should not be trusted with making food,” Enjolras declares, finishing his cookie.

“Hey, you have chocolate here.” Grantaire points to the corner of his own mouth.

“Oh, thanks.” Enjolras tries to lick it off. “Good?” Grantaire shakes his head, so Enjolras wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb and sucks it clean. “And now?” Grantaire nods, dumbfounded.

Grantaire stares at Enjolras’s mouth. Enjolras swallows, and Grantaire follows the movement of his throat. Enjolras takes a step forward. Grantaire looks up to his eyes.

“Just kiss me already, Grantaire,” Enjolras whispers. Grantaire laughs a little in surprise, but he complies.

The first kiss is tentative. They start slowly, exploring each other’s mouths carefully, hands above shoulders. Still, Enjolras can tell Grantaire is good at this, which doesn’t really surprise him. Even though there is a lot he doesn’t know about Grantaire, Enjolras does know he excels at everything he does.

Grantaire breaks the kiss.

“Was that okay?” Grantaire asks.

“Yes.”

“Are you freaking out?”

“No.”

“Then please stop thinking.”

Grantaire kisses him again, and this time Enjolras stops holding himself back. He opens his mouth for Grantaire and Grantaire gives him everything he’s got, licking and biting in ways Enjolras didn’t even know were possible, and he enjoys it tremendously. Grantaire’s hands find their way to Enjolras’s hair and Enjolras touches the small of Grantaire’s back, pulling him closer. Enjolras places his hand under Grantaire’s shirt caresses the soft, warm skin of his back, making Grantaire shudder and pull his hair. Enjolras groans. Grantaire tries it again, a little bit harder.

Enjolras separates their mouths just enough to mutter “Yes” against Grantaire’s lips. Satisfied with that reaction, Grantaire grabs a handful of Enjolras’s hair and pulls his head back to kiss down his neck. Enjolras keeps muttering incentives and humming with pleasure as Grantaire licks and nips at the sensitive skin. Then Grantaire sucks at his collarbone and Enjolras reflexively grinds against Grantaire, which makes him stop to look at Enjolras.

“Can I touch you? I need to touch you,” he says gruffly, and Enjolras assents quickly. Grantaire palms him over the thin flannel pants and Enjolras bucks against his hand. “You’re so hot, Enjolras,” Grantaire whispers as he touches him. “Never, in my wildest dreams, did I think you’d be this responsive.”

Enjolras huffs a laugh and moves his hips against Grantaire’s hand. “Tell me about those wild dreams.”

Grantaire keeps moving his hand and kisses under Enjolras’s ear. “I’ve dreamed about you so many times, Enjolras. In my dreams, you’re so eager for it, so desperate.” Grantaire finally pulls the pants down and touches Enjolras’s cock properly. Enjolras moans at the sensation. “In my dreams, you let me do the dirtiest things to you.” Grantaire touches the tip and slides his hand down, making his touch slick with pre-come. “And you love it. You always, always want more.”

“Fuck, Grantaire,” Enjolras curses, thrusting into his fist. Grantaire’s hand picks up speed. Enjolras’s mouth lets out a litany of filthy words, desperate moans and broken sobs. “Fuck, I’m so close,” he whimpers. 

Grantaire licks his free hand and uses it to add lubrication. He carries on with it, moving the other further down, to touch Enjolras’s balls. “Come for me, Enj, please” Grantaire nips at Enjolras’s earlobe. After that, it doesn’t take too long. Enjolras feels his orgasm rush through him and he holds on to Grantaire’s waist as he spends himself, while Grantaire keeps pumping his hand. Enjolras breathes hard after for a few seconds. He opens his eyes to blue ones, darkened with lust.

“Are you good?” Grantaire asks.

“I’m incredible,” Enjolras mutters before he kisses Grantaire again.

Grantaire kisses him back, but then he pushes Enjolras away lightly.

“Fuck, do you smell that?” Grantaire motions for the oven, but then he looks at his hand and hesitates. Enjolras laughs at the situation.

“Let me do it, go wash your hand.”

Enjolras adjusts his clothes and walks to turn off the oven. He uses a mitten to take the batch out. The cookies are very, very burnt.

“I forgot to set the timer the second time,” Grantaire laments.

“See? I’m such a disaster in the kitchen that I’ve already started rubbing off on you,” Enjolras jokes as he sets the cookies down.

When he turns, Grantaire is already close to him again. “So I have to choose between being able to cook and being with you? I don’t know, eating pizza forever sounds like a good bargain to me.”

“Good,” he agrees. “So why don’t you show me how responsive  _ you _ are, now?” Enjolras licks his lips.

“Deal,” Grantaire says, before pulling him closer for a lecherous kiss.

***

When Enjolras tells his two best friends what happened, they both seem very excited about it, though unsurprised.

“Come on, let’s all admit it was the best Christmas ever,” Courfeyrac smiles with satisfaction.

“You still owe me twenty bucks, Courf.” Combeferre says.

Courfeyrac grimaces.

Enjolras is too happy to be angry at them this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you had a nice holiday! Thank you so much for reading this. :)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm always down to chat on [tumblr](http://ronnlynch.tumblr.com/)!


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